


A Slight Disadvantage

by Angeltattoo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (comfort eventually anyway), (not graphic though), Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Choking, Demon Dean Winchester, F/M, Gun Kink, Handcuffs, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Violence, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Vaginal Sex, Vomiting, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:20:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24296503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angeltattoo/pseuds/Angeltattoo
Summary: Set during 10x03. Demon Dean escapes while you and Sam are attempting to cure him, and he's not happy. He finds you, and decides to take it out on you and prove he's beyond saving.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean Winchester/You
Comments: 15
Kudos: 81





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Believe it or not, I'm actually a Cas girl, but so far I've only written for Dean! I'm also halfway through writing one with Dean and Sam, but I was struggling with that one so I wrote this. Kind of stuck on Cas ideas tbh. If anyone has any fic ideas they want to see, feel free to comment with them, I might give them a shot!

Your heart was in your throat as you crept through the bunker, struggling to keep your hands steady on your gun. How could things have gone so wrong? Everything had been going according to plan, with your only real worry being the unknown factor of how Dean would react to being cured with the blood. Now Dean was loose, Sam was unconscious, and you had no idea how to take down this demon version of Dean on your own. 

Still, you had the devil’s trap bullets in your gun. If you could shoot him somewhere you wouldn’t do too much damage... 

Hands grabbed you from behind, spinning you round and slamming your back against the wall. The gun was knocked from your hand, clattering to the floor. Dean stood in front of you, illuminated in the red glow of the emergency lights, pinning your wrists to the wall in a firm grip. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said with a cruel grin. 

You lifted your leg, aiming to kick him where it hurt, but he nimbly stepped aside, flinging you to the floor. Before you could get back on your feet, Dean was on top of you, the barrel of your own gun pressed to the back of your head. You froze, breathing hard, trying to decide what your odds of success were if you were to flip round now and try to grab the gun from Dean. 

“I wouldn’t try it,” Dean warned, as though he could read your thoughts. “I know you don’t want to hurt me, but I don’t give a shit about you. That puts you at a bit of a disadvantage.” 

You took a chance. 

“I don’t think you want to hurt me either,” you replied. “You’re still in there, Dean, I know you are. If you just let us finish...” 

Dean slammed the gun down on the back of your head, the blow vibrating through your skull, white hot pain flaring. It wasn’t enough to knock you out, but for several seconds your vision blurred, your entire body going limp as you lost all feeling in your limbs momentarily, and you’d had enough head injuries to know that you probably had a concussion.

Yanking your arms behind your back, Dean snapped a pair of steel handcuffs onto your wrists; you were too dazed and weak to fight back, the floor seeming to tilt sickeningly beneath you. “You really don’t fucking get it, do you?” Dean growled as he lifted you up, slinging you over his shoulder as though you weighed nothing. “I don’t want to be cured. You know, if you’d just let me go, I would have left you guys to it, but now you’ve pissed me off.” 

You tried to focus past the ringing in your ears as Dean carried you through the bunker, into his old room, where he flung you roughly onto the bed. Slowly the dizziness was receding, though you still felt weak and a little sick. “Dean, what are you doing?” 

“Proving that I’m not the person I used to be.” Dean grabbed your hair, yanking your head back to look at him, and you hissed at the renewed pain blossoming at the back of your head. “I’m not your friend. I’m not Sam’s brother. I don’t feel anything for you, except maybe an urge to see you suffer, after what a pain in the ass you’ve been.” 

Trying to ignore the fear fluttering in your stomach, you glared back at him. “Do your worst.” 

Dean laughed. “You know, the old Dean, he felt something for you,” he confessed, getting onto the bed and kneeling beside you. “And I think you knew. I’m pretty sure you caught me checking out your ass once or twice before, right?” 

You tested the handcuffs at your wrists, but they held firm. “You check out every girl’s ass, that’s nothing new.” 

“Oh, but it was more than that. I liked you.” Reaching out a hand, Dean brushed your hair from your face almost tenderly, tucking it behind your ear. “I was good at flirting with random girls in bars, but when it came to you, I had no idea what to say to you.” 

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. All this time... why had he not told you? Why did you not tell him? If you’d known he had feelings too... then again, that was probably his reason for not saying anything, too. 

“Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Those sorts of feelings don’t really exist when you’re a demon. I mean, I’d still love to fuck you, though.” 

He grabbed your breast suddenly, squeezing it, and you jerked away. “Don’t fucking touch me,” you snapped, your heart hammering against your ribs. Dean ignored your protests, grabbing the top of your shirt with both hands and tearing it in two as if it were made of paper. 

You cried out in shock, scrambling to get away, kicking out wildly, but Dean climbed on top of you, sitting on your thighs to hold them still. You watched in horror as he removed a switchblade from his pocket, flipping the knife open and using it to slice through the sleeves of your shirt; you froze, breathing hard, not daring to struggle with the knife so close to your skin. 

“Dean, please... don’t do this.” 

Ignoring you, Dean tossed the tattered remains of your shirt aside. “Oh, look at this!” he said as he grabbed your breasts over your bra, squeezing them roughly. “Who were you hoping to impress with this bra?” 

In truth, you didn’t own that many bras, and had simply pulled on the first one you’d seen this morning. But the bra was certainly one of your nicest ones, and while you’d mostly bought it just for yourself since you liked the look, you’d definitely had someone on your mind when you’d picked it up. Specifically, the person currently straddling your thighs. 

“I bought it for myself, you dick, and if you break it I’ll kill you,” you snapped, though your anger was only to cover your sickening fear as you realised that there might not be a way out of this. 

Dean laughed. “Tell you what, I’ll make you a little deal. If you promise to be good, and behave yourself, then I’ll take those cuffs off. I’ll take that bra off nice and slow, without damaging it, and the rest of your clothes too, and then I’ll fuck you nice and slow and gentle. Well, maybe not that gentle. But I’ll be nice about it. I won’t hurt you. Because let’s be honest, you’re gonna get fucked no matter what. But if you cause me trouble, you try to get away and I catch you, and you will be in for a world of pain.” 

Though it had been obvious what Dean wanted, actually hearing him say that he planned to rape you somehow brought it home. To your horror, you could feel tears stinging the back of your eyes; you blinked them away, taking a deep breath. “It’s a deal. Take the cuffs off.” 

“You sure? You gonna be good for me?” 

You gritted your teeth. “Yes.” 

“Tell me. Tell me you’re gonna be a good girl.” 

Face burning with humiliation, you forced the words out. “I’ll be a good girl, Dean.” 

Dean climbed off your legs. “Roll onto your stomach,” he ordered, and you did as you were told, tense with nervous anticipation. Dean released the cuffs, but you didn’t react straight away. You had to time it right. 

Getting to your feet slowly, you took a deep, steadying breath, flinching as Dean approached you. He laid his hands on your hips, pulling your body against his, and leaned in; you closed your eyes, allowing him to kiss you. 

It was a strange feeling. You had wanted this for so long, been dreaming of this moment, and you couldn’t help the way your heart soared at the fact that Dean was finally kissing you. You only wished with all your heart that it was in different circumstances. Part of you almost wanted to go with it, to allow him to have his way with you, but this was wrong. If you were going to experience that, you wanted to do it properly. Trying to focus, you kept up the kiss with one hand on the back of Dean’s head, pulling him in while your other hand strayed to the back pocket of your jeans, where you kept your tiny flask of holy water. Thank god for men's jeans with actual decent pockets.

Fishing it from your pocket, you fumbled blindly with the top, struggling to get it open one handed. Dean noticed the movement, pulling away, and you froze. 

“Something wrong?” he asked casually, his smile cold. Your heart sank. 

Grabbing your wrist, he pulled your hand around in front of you. “What’s this?” he asked, taking the tiny metal flask, and looked at you with mock disappointment. “Were you trying to use holy water on me? I’m hurt.” 

Shaking just a little, you shook your head. “I wasn’t...” 

Grabbing both your wrists in a grip tight enough to grind your bones together, forcing you to drop the flask, Dean shoved his face right up into yours. “Don’t fucking lie to me.” 

Too late to deny it. The blood roared in your ears as you admitted, “ok, yeah, I was gonna use it. What the fuck did you expect?”

And then you brought your knee up, your kneecap slamming into Dean’s groin. 

Dean yelled, letting go of your wrists, and you raced for the door, grabbing the handle and pulling hard. Locked. He’d locked it when he’d brought you in here, and in your dizzy state, you hadn’t even noticed. 

Immediately Dean was behind you, spinning you round to face him before he slapped you round the face, hard enough to knock you to the floor. You cried out, immediately attempting to scramble to your feet, but Dean kicked you hard in the ribs, knocking the air from your lungs. 

Before you could react, he was on top of you, and you flipped onto your back, trying to kick him; he slapped your face again, and then his hands were on your throat, cutting off your air. You struggled and fought, legs and arms flailing, but your wild hits simply bounced off, seemingly about as bothersome as a gnat bite. Your limbs grew weaker quickly with lack of oxygen, and you slapped at Dean’s arms futilely; he simply tightened his grip. Fighting for air, you twisted and writhed beneath him, lungs aching, your terror increasing with every second. 

By the time Dean released you, your limbs were growing numb, your head heavy; you could barely resist as he picked you up and flung you back onto the bed, climbing on top of you. “You know what, I think I’m gonna rip this bra off you, just because you pissed me off,” Dean growled, snapping the front of the bra in two with his hands before pulling the straps down your arms. 

“Dean,” you rasped out, your arms flopping around weakly like stranded fish. “Please stop, please...” 

Ripping off his belt, Dean wrapped it deftly around your wrists, binding them in front of you before unbuttoning your jeans. He pulled them down along with your underwear, exposing you completely to his gaze before he grabbed your thighs, shoving them open and apart. “Oh, that’s a pretty pussy,” he murmured, and you turned your face away, finally starting to cry. 

The feeling was starting to return to your limbs now, though between the choking and the earlier head injury, you felt extremely weak. Unable to bear the thought of going down without a fight, you kicked out clumsily; Dean immediately drew his knife from his pocket once more, flicking the blade open and pressing the tip of it against the top of your inner thigh. “Stay still,” he ordered, and you froze; but the second the blade was withdrawn, you kicked out again. 

Dean sighed heavily, getting to his feet and making his way to the wardrobe. Jumping on the opportunity, you scrambled up from the bed, only for your legs to immediately give way beneath you, and you crashed to the floor. 

Moments later, Dean picked you up, tossing you back onto the bed again. Your escape attempt had only served to amuse him. You noticed he’d set down a pile of coiled rope on the mattress, which he now grabbed, taking hold of one of your ankles and tying it with practised ease. “You’re not a real hunter unless you’ve got a nice supply of rope and handcuffs somewhere close by,” he commented as he pulled your leg out, tying the other end of the rope to one of the lower bed posts. He did the same with the other ankle while you put up minimal resistance; you were simply too weak to fight back. Within moments you were restrained, your legs held wide open, and Dean removed the belt from your wrists before tying those with rope, too. The other end was quickly tied to the headboard, leaving you completely helpless, spread open before him. 

You had promised yourself you would stay strong, you wouldn’t give him any satisfaction, but now, naked and completely at Dean’s mercy, you began to sob. You couldn’t hold back any more. 

“Aww,” Dean mocked, sitting down on the bed beside you and wiping away a tear with his thumb. Jerking your head away, you closed your eyes and tried to regain control of your breathing as he said, “it’s ok, sweetheart. You put up a good fight. Better luck next time.” 

Laying a hand on your cheek, he turned you to face him. “Look at me. I want to see you cry.” 

Feeling a little sick, you reluctantly met his gaze. “Please,” you whispered, your pride forgotten. “Please don’t do this. I know you don’t want this. You’re still you, deep down. Just... please, please let me go...” 

Dean laughed. “Oh, but I do want this. I’ve got you all on display for me, why would I just let you go now?” 

He ran a hand down over your chest, stroking your breasts, pinching your nipples gently. “God, I’ve wanted to see these for so long. You have great tits, you know that? Always wanted to get my hands on them.” 

Squeezing your eyes shut, you concentrated on taking deep breaths. You could get through this. 

Dean pinched your nipple hard, pulling on it, and you shrieked at the pain, your back arching off the bed. “That’s better,” Dean said with a grin. “Can’t have you relaxing too much.” 

His hand slid lower down your stomach, fingers slipping between your legs, and you tensed, your breath catching in your throat. “Huh. Not wet for me yet? Do you not find me attractive, is that it? I gotta say, I’m a little offended.” 

“Oh, did you expect me to enjoy being raped?” you snapped back, yanking hard on the ropes despite knowing that you weren’t going anywhere. If Dean tied someone up, they usually stayed that way. He was good with knots. “You’re out your fucking mind.” 

Dean smacked your pussy, hard, and you yelped, legs fighting to close against the ropes. “I’m tempted to gag you, but I do like hearing you beg,” he said as he began rubbing between your legs again, slow and gentle. “You should be thanking me. I could just shove my cock in your pussy right now, but I’m gonna help you out a bit first. Only because it feels better for me, if I’m being honest. Just last week I fucked some girl’s ass dry, and it didn’t feel that great. I did enjoy the screams, though.” 

Turning your head to the side to hide your tears, you tried to push the sudden images out of your head. Dean’s fingers circled your clit now, slow and gentle, and to your dismay you could feel heat beginning to stir low in your stomach. “There we go,” Dean murmured, his fingers slipping down lower to slide inside you. “Still tight though. You scared of me?” 

“What do you think?” you retorted, your voice a whisper. 

Standing up, Dean began stripping off his clothes, and you couldn’t help but watch. You’d seen him shirtless once before, when you’d helped him stitch up a gash in his side after a hunt gone wrong; you knew how gorgeous he was beneath his shirt, but you’d never seen more than that. Dean caught you watching and grinned as he removed his pants and boxers, revealing his hard cock, and you felt yourself tense up at the sight of it; he was definitely above average, and perhaps in different circumstances you would have been excited. Today, though, you were tense with fear, and you had a feeling he wouldn’t go slow. 

You wriggled your wrists again, feeling the rope slip around your right wrist just a little. Your heart jumped, but you forced yourself to keep the movements subtle. 

When Dean climbed back onto the bed, you froze; if he noticed you wriggling your wrists and tightened the ropes, your only chance would be gone. Dean settled himself between your legs, running his hands over your breasts once more, and you fought back more tears, pleading one last time. 

“No, Dean, please, I don’t want this...” 

The head of Dean’s cock bumped against your folds, not pushing in yet, just lightly touching. “You don’t mind if I leave out the condom, do you?” he asked. “I’m just not a fan of the way it feels.” 

The reality of the situation hit you all over again, and you could feel yourself beginning to shake. “Oh god, Dean, please... shit, please, please don’t...” 

Dean slammed into you, hard, and you cried out at the pain. You were barely even wet, your pussy clenched against the intrusion, but Dean didn’t seem to notice or care, pulling his hips back and shoving into you again just as hard. He began fucking you roughly, his cock slamming against your cervix, and you found yourself sobbing once more. You really didn't want to beg, but you couldn't hold the words back. Surely you'd get through to him.

“Oh god, please stop... Dean, it hurts, please...” 

“You know, the more it hurts, the more it turns me on,” Dean grunted as he thrust into you. “You wanna know what I did to that girl last week?” 

Frantically you shook your head. “Ah, that’s too bad, because I’m gonna tell you anyway,” Dean panted. “Shy girl, really sweet. Bumped into me at a gas station and apologised her ass off. I followed her home.” His voice was strained as he fucked you, panting between words. “I broke into her house, found her just about to get into the shower. Already naked for me. I grabbed her by the hair, forced her onto her knees and shoved my cock in her mouth. Fucked her throat until she threw up, and then I bent her over her bed, held her wrists behind her back, and fucked her ass dry. God, you should have heard the screams.” 

“Shut up,” you whispered tearfully. “Shut up, please...” 

“I actually got sick of the screaming though, would you believe it?” Dean continued, his thrusts getting harder, though you were wet enough now that the pain had faded, your body reacting to the sensations despite everything. “So I threw her on the floor and beat the shit out of her. She was barely conscious, but I made sure she was still awake when I threw her over the bed and fucked her ass some more. And when I was done, I carved my initials into her back with my knife. She won’t be forgetting me in a hurry. And she knows what I’ll do to her family if she tells anyone.” 

“You’re a monster,” you sobbed. 

Ignoring you, Dean closed his eyes, groaning as he neared his climax. “I wanna make you scream like that,” he panted, not seeming to notice as you began wriggling your wrists again. “Fuck...” 

You fought against every instinct telling you to free yourself before he could come inside you. In the middle of his orgasm would be your best chance. Escape was most important, you could deal with... anything else later. You waited, timing it until Dean’s orgasm hit, his eyes closed tight as he moaned. With a quick tug, you slipped your wrists free; Dean didn’t realise, caught up in the wave of pleasure. 

Heart in your throat, you reached down, and in one quick motion you snatched the switchblade from his pocket, flipped it open and thrust it into his thigh. 

You couldn’t believe you’d been lucky enough to have pulled the manoeuvre off without getting caught. With a yell, Dean leapt backwards and fell to the floor, disorientated from being stabbed mid orgasm. Sitting up, you quickly sliced through the ropes tying your ankles to the bed posts, and leapt to your feet. 

Before you could even make it to the door, you felt Dean’s hand grab a fistful of your hair, and you screamed, high on adrenaline as you struggled in his grip. Screaming somehow made you feel better, and so you went wild, kicking, scratching, yelling and shrieking as Dean fought to get you back under control, the blood roaring in your ears, your vision blurred as you lashed out with fists and feet and fingernails. 

With his demon abilities, Dean overpowered you again without too much trouble, though you made it as difficult as possible for him. At one point during the struggle you managed to catch Dean full on the jaw with your fist, but it didn’t seem to have any effect at all, and when Dean punched you hard in the stomach, you went down, winded, gasping for air as you sank to the floor. 

“Fucking hell,” Dean panted, planting his foot on your lower back, forcing you onto your stomach. “You can put up a hell of a fight. If I wasn’t a demon, I think you might have won that one.” 

You lay trembling, gasping, stomach pulsing with pain as you tried to catch your breath. “Go to hell,” you wheezed. 

“Already been, sweetheart.” Dropping to his knees, Dean grabbed your wrists; you tried to struggle again despite your exhaustion, but Dean calmly placed a hand on the back of your shoulder, his other hand wrenching your left arm up behind your back, hard and sudden enough to dislocate your shoulder. You screamed again at the explosion of pain, breathing hard through gritted teeth as it faded to a sickening ache. Dean's voice sounded strangely distant. "You're starting to wear me out. That oughta slow you down a bit."

You didn’t react as Dean got up, moving around behind you. You were blinded by pain, every movement sending fresh agony through your shoulder and arm, your awareness narrowing down to each breath. The sudden blow against your ass was completely unexpected- you heard the jingle of a belt- and your cry choked off in your throat as you instinctively jerked away. More pain, pain with every movement, but it was impossible to stay still as Dean brought the belt down again and again. 

“Aww, not gonna try to run again?” Dean asked, giving you a kick in the ribs. “What’s wrong? Did I break you?” 

You ignored him. There was clearly no way of getting out of this, but you were going to give him as little satisfaction as possible. 

Dean had other ideas. “Come on, it’s no fun if you just lie there. Crawl, bitch. Get up and crawl.” 

You stayed on the floor, sharp pins and needles shooting through your arm in slow pulses. The pain no longer showed on your face, though it took incredible effort to hide it, and your breathing was ragged, your right hand clenched into a fist, nails digging into your palm. You tried to focus on that. 

Dean slammed the belt down again on your ass. You yelped, clenching your teeth, but didn't move. You could handle it. You just had to keep breathing. 

The belt hit the back of your dislocated shoulder, wrenching another scream from you. For a moment, your vision whited out. You’d never felt pain like it. When it faded, you could hear a ringing in your ears, your entire body shaking. 

“Now, if you don’t want me to do it again, I’d suggest you get up and crawl,” Dean said coldly. 

Taking a deep breath, tears damp on your cheeks, you began hauling yourself up onto your knees. Your left arm hung limp, useless and aching. Once you were up, you took a moment to try to figure out how on earth you were supposed to crawl without the use of your left arm. Dean gave you a nudge with his foot. “Come on. Thought you didn’t want this? I’m starting to think you want me to rape you.” 

You managed to sort of hop as you shuffled forward, face burning as Dean laughed. Moving around in front of you, he kicked your good arm out from beneath you, and you lurched forward, your face taking the fall; you yelled at the pain as you collided hard with the carpet. 

“Oops.” Dean’s grin was evident from the tone of his voice. “Guess you’d better try again.” 

Trembling with exhaustion, you hauled yourself up onto your knees once more. Dean allowed you to crawl a little way forward before grabbing your hair and spinning you round roughly, the carpet grazing your knees. Despite having already come once, he was fully hard again. “Open your mouth,” Dean ordered. “And if you bite me, I’ll pull all your teeth out one by one, and then I’ll just do what I want with you anyway.” 

Reluctantly you opened your mouth, and Dean immediately shoved his cock right into your throat; you gagged, fighting his hold, but he had both hands in your hair, gripping it tight as he held your head down. He fucked your throat with almost the same enthusiasm as when he’d fucked your pussy, and your good arm came up instinctively to grab his thigh, attempting to hold him back. It was about as much use as a feather against a storm. 

At last Dean pulled your head back, allowing you great gulps of air before he shoved you back down again, ramming his cock deep in your throat. You writhed and choked, desperate to breathe, praying you didn’t throw up. “Fuck, your throat feels good,” Dean groaned, yanking you forward and holding you there with your nose against his stomach. The pain in your shoulder was forgotten as you struggled, frantic, your chest aching for oxygen. You thrashed wildly, legs scraping on the rough carpet, your nails clawing at Dean’s thigh until at last he let go, and you tumbled backwards away from him, coughing, chest heaving. 

He left you on the floor, knowing you weren’t going anywhere, and you heard him open a drawer of his bedside table. He set an item down on top of the large chest of drawers against the wall before grabbing your hair and hauling you to your feet. Dragging you over to the chest of drawers, he roughly bent you over it, and you braced yourself on your right arm, hissing at the pain as your left arm bumped against the wood. Dean shoved the object he’d taken from his drawer in front of your face; a bottle of lube. 

Grabbing your right hand, Dean squirted a small amount of lube onto your fingers. “I want you to prep your ass for me,” he told you. “You have ten seconds.” 

Your stomach dropped. “Dean, I can’t...” 

“Ten. Nine...” 

Shit. You’d never even had anal sex before; you’d experimented with a finger or two, but that was it. Reaching behind yourself, you pushed your index finger into your ass. 

“Five...” 

You shoved in a second finger, gasping at the sudden stretch, trying to open them up. Panic made your hand shake, making the task even more difficult. You were just attempting to push in a painful third finger when Dean grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away and slamming it back down on top of the dresser. 

“Better hope you did a good job,” Dean said as he lined up, the head of his cock pressing lightly against your barely loosened hole. 

You were crying again now, overwhelmed by fear and shock and trauma. “Please,” you whispered, despite knowing by now that it would get you nowhere. “Dean, please, don’t do this.” 

“Hmm.” Dean leaned over you, whispering close to your ear. “You do beg so nicely. Keep going. Maybe you’ll persuade me.” 

You were fairly sure that was bullshit, but you had to try. “You don’t have to do this, Dean,” you sobbed. “We can help you. We love you. If you take this too far you can’t come back from it. Please, please don’t...” 

Dean rammed his cock into your ass, and you let out a choked off scream. You were barely prepared at all. “Holy shit,” Dean panted, “you’re so fucking tight. Sorry, sweetheart, I just... didn’t think that was heartfelt enough, you know? But feel free to keep trying if you want.” 

He was forced to move slowly at first, you were clenched so tight around him, but soon he began to pick up the pace. It burned horribly, and you were sure you had to be torn. All you could do was brace yourself with one arm as Dean fucked you roughly. By now your tears were flowing unchecked, your breath hitching with harsh sobs, your vision blurred. The edge of the dresser dug painfully into your hips, and every drag of Dean’s cock in and out of your ass was fresh agony. 

“Actually, I think we can make this better,” Dean said suddenly, pulling out. “Wait there.” 

As soon as he let go, you slumped to the floor, your legs too weak to hold you. When Dean returned, he simply pulled you up onto your knees on the floor, getting down behind you, and pushed back into your sore ass; you moaned in pain, feeling completely drained and a little sick. Sharp new pain in your lower back caused you to cry out, making a weak attempt to pull away; Dean held you in place easily with a hand on your thigh. “Hold still, or you’ll screw it up,” he snapped, and you realised that the sensation was his knife carving into your skin. 

“Guess this is tradition now,” he said as he slowed his thrusts right down to avoid jostling you too much. “It’s like a calling card.” 

You knew he had to be carving his initials into your back, just as he had done with the girl he’d told you about. By now, though, you had no energy left to try and stop him. You slumped broken and sobbing on the floor, feeling the blood trickle across your skin from the wounds as Dean finished. At last he set down the knife, and immediately began fucking you hard again. 

Grabbing your hands, Dean twisted your arms behind your back to grip your wrists, and you almost threw up at the pain in your shoulder. Holding your wrists now in one hand, Dean’s other hand grabbed your hair, yanking your head back, and you whimpered as your head wound from the start of all this was aggravated again. Dean continued to slam into you, and you could tell from his breathing that he was getting close to another orgasm. "You want me to come in your ass?" he growled, and you frantically shook your head. "Too bad I don't care what you want."

He moaned as he finally came, spilling inside your ass. “Fuck,” he panted, “your ass is incredible. That feel as good for you as it did for me?” 

You didn’t answer, collapsing to the floor as he pulled out. “Aw, did you not have fun?” he asked mockingly. “How about I help you out?” 

No. It was over. It had to be over. 

Dean got up, fetching another item from his drawer before sitting down beside you and rolling you onto your back. “You want your gun back?” he asked, holding the item up in front of you. It was the gun he’d knocked from your hands earlier. 

Your breath caught in your throat as he pressed the barrel of the gun lightly against your cheek, running it slowly down your throat to your chest. Hardly daring to breathe, you stayed frozen as he slowly circled one of your nipples with the gun barrel before moving on, down your stomach, down between your legs. 

You couldn’t help the fearful whimper that escaped as he began rubbing the gun barrel gently up and down your pussy, stroking it over your clit. “Hey, relax,” he murmured, “I’m not gonna shoot you unless you really piss me off.” 

Getting up onto his knees to see better, Dean positioned himself between your legs, one hand reaching out to spread your folds apart as the other hand stroked your clit with the gun. “Spread your legs more,” Dean ordered, and you obeyed without protest, too scared and exhausted to fight back. “God, that’s hot. I’m gonna make you come with my gun inside you.” 

“No,” you gasped, flinching away. All your fighting spirit was gone at this point, and all you could do was cry in fear. “No no no, don’t...” 

Dean slapped your inner thigh hard. “Shut up.” 

You fell silent, trembling as he slid the gun down to press against your entrance, the fingers of his other hand beginning to rub your clit in slow, gentle circles. Slowly he began to push the barrel of the gun inside, and you whined at the stretch, your pussy clenching down painfully against the solid object. 

“Holy shit,” Dean murmured. “There we go, you can take it. Good girl.” 

Flushed with embarrassment, you closed your eyes, wishing you could forget what was happening, take your mind off things, but it was impossible. Pain and fear kept you firmly in the moment as Dean began to slide the gun gently in and out of you. 

To your horror, you could feel the pleasure starting to build, the familiar aching warmth building in your stomach and thighs. Dean was skilled with his fingers, and you were somehow beginning to relax involuntarily despite your terror at having a literal loaded gun inside you. “You gonna come for me?” Dean whispered, his voice surprisingly gentle. “You know, I think you like this.” 

“No,” you choked out, fighting to keep your hips still. “I don’t want this, I don’t...” 

“Oh, but you’re so wet.” Dean’s touch was firmer now on your clit, and you were struggling to stay still. “You gonna still use this gun after this? Thinking every time you use it about how I fucked you with it?” 

Your hips bucked off the floor, and he laughed. “Oh, yeah, you’re enjoying this. This is hot as hell, and I should know.” The gun still hurt inside you, more painful as he fucked you with it harder, but his touch on your clit made you ache. You could feel your orgasm building, and you actually moaned, hating yourself more with every second. 

You came with a cry, rocking your hips down against the gun, Dean’s talented fingers easing you through your orgasm. Eventually you fell limp, panting as Dean withdrew the gun. 

You felt strangely spaced out as you lay there, eyes closed, exhausted and shaking, every part of your body in pain. Your left arm ached, and your head; your ribs throbbed, and your ass and pussy burned, as did the wounds on your back. You felt sick. Dean got to his feet, and you heard him beginning to get dressed out of your field of vision. “Well, it’s been fun,” he said as he returned to you, placing a foot firmly on top of your pussy, and you whimpered. 

Suddenly Dean let out a yell, and you opened your eyes; Cas was behind Dean, grabbing him tight, his arms around him as Dean struggled. Your heart skipped a beat. Cas was here. Was it finally over?

Briefly the angel met your gaze, and his eyes widened. “Sam!” he called. 

Sam came rushing into the room, and you began to cry once again from both relief and humiliation at being seen like this. You turned your face away, in too much pain to even close your legs despite your embarrassment. Moments later, you felt a blanket thrown over you, and then Sam’s hands on you as he knelt at your side. “Jesus," he murmured to himself. “Oh my god.” 

“Sam,” you croaked, your voice strained. 

“Yeah, it’s me. I’m here.” Taking your face in his hands, Sam turned your head gently to face him. “Hey, I’m here. You’re safe.” He seemed to take a moment to compose himself, taking a deep breath, before he spoke again. “Do you think you can sit up?” 

You nodded weakly, and Sam slipped an arm beneath your shoulders; you hissed in pain. “Think my shoulder’s dislocated,” you warned him, your voice barely audible, and he adjusted his grip, helping you sit upright and pulling the blanket close around you beneath your arms. 

He managed to ease you to your feet and onto the bed, propping you up on the pillows. “Ok, just... wait there, ok? I’ll be back.” Sam squeezed your shoulder briefly before getting to his feet and leaving the room. 

Finally alone, sitting there in blissful silence, the situation almost didn’t feel real. You had to be in shock, you realised distantly. 

Dean had raped you. 

It hadn’t been his fault. The Mark of Cain had corrupted him, and while he wasn’t possessed, he still wasn’t in control. You knew that. But you also knew that you probably weren’t going to get past this any time soon. It was all flashing through your mind again, the joy on his face and in his voice as he hurt you, the laughter as he’d humiliated you, the pain he’d caused... 

You scrambled up from the bed at the sudden wave of nausea, your legs folding as soon as they touched the floor, and threw up on the carpet. Vivid snapshot memories flashed through your mind, your good hand flying up to your head to claw at your hair as though you could rip the memories out. 

When Sam returned, you were curled against the side of the bed on the floor, your body wracked with sobs. Sam crouched down beside you, reaching out to lay a tentative hand on your shoulder. “Are you... ok?” 

Your tears were interrupted as you looked up at him, and you almost laughed. Sam seemed to realise the ridiculousness of his question. “Sorry. Stupid question. Can I help you back up onto the bed?” 

You allowed him to ease you back up; he looked awkward, not sure where to look or touch. “It’s ok, Sam,” you whispered. “You can touch me. Can you fix up my shoulder for me?” 

Sam ran a hand over his face, looking like he was fighting not to cry. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I just...” Shaking his head, he turned to face you. “I’m so sorry.” 

You didn’t have the energy to respond. 

Taking a deep breath, Sam regained control. “Alright, let’s fix you up. I can’t fix what happened, but I can fix something, at least.” He began removing some items from the first aid kit he’d brought in with him, and you leaned back against the headboard, closing your eyes. Treating injuries was going to be the easy bit. There would be a hell of a lot more to deal with after this, for a long time to come.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is human again. You're relieved to have him back, but how are you supposed to move on from what happened?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really struggled to write this. I think because I wanted to get it right, but everyone deals with this sort of thing differently. My dark stories are only written for fun and nothing but fantasy, but this is still a tough topic and I don't want to trivialise it. Anyway, I might write some more, who knows. I have more ideas. I enjoy my sweet comfort/recovery fics just as much as my fucked up porn, so there might be another chapter eventually!

You sighed in relief at Castiel’s healing touch. “Thanks, Cas. Are you sure you’re good again? Like, with your grace?” 

“For now,” Cas replied. “I’m just glad I could heal you.” 

You were sitting on the bed in your own room now, in your pyjamas, fiddling awkwardly with a loose thread on the bedsheets while Sam sat beside you. He seemed to be finding things just as awkward as you were, not saying anything, and there was a long moment of silence before you finally spoke. “So, is Dean...” 

“He’s good,” Sam said. “Well, not good. You know. He’s human. He’s in my room right now, he didn’t want to go back into his yet after... after what happened.” 

You nodded, still not taking your gaze from the loose thread you were picking at. “Is he ok?” 

Sam shook his head. “He’s pretty broken up about it. He asked if you wanted to see him.” 

“I don’t think I can,” you replied, hating the way your voice broke slightly. “Not yet. Not today.” 

Sam squeezed your shoulder gently. “Ok. I’ll tell him.” 

You waited until he and Cas left the room, shutting the door behind them, and then finally, you let the tears spill free. Your shoulders shook as you began to sob, curling in on yourself, hugging your knees to your chest. It felt as though your heart was breaking. Part of you longed to go to Dean, to hug him, to tell him he was forgiven. Of course it wasn’t his fault. But even the mere thought of him touching you right now made you shudder. 

Sam had brought you your phone, and you reached out, picking it up from the bedside table. The screen was blurry through your tears. You had a text from Dean. 

_I’m so sorry._

Quickly you deleted the text, unable to stand seeing the words on the screen. You grabbed your headphones from the top drawer of the bedside table, plugged them into your phone and chose a loud, lively song, turning the volume up almost painfully loud in an attempt to drown out the thoughts and memories clawing at your mind. You lay down, closing your eyes, focusing on breathing. You concentrated on the music. It was uncomfortably loud. Good. At least it was a distraction. 

Perhaps an hour later, you jumped violently as Sam appeared in your line of vision; you’d simply been lying on your side, staring at the wall. You yanked out your headphones. 

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” Sam apologised. “I knocked, but I guess you didn’t hear, and you didn’t seem to hear me come in either.” 

Sitting upright, you took a deep breath as your racing heart began to calm a little. “It’s ok. You just startled me.” 

“I just came to ask if you wanted something to eat.” 

Forcing a weak smile, you shook your head. “No thanks.” 

Sam looked awkward, again. “Can I, uh... can I do anything?” 

You were about to shake your head, but suddenly changed your mind, not sure you could stand lying down and staring at the wall again. “Can you sit with me for a little while?” you asked tentatively. 

Sam looked surprised for a moment. “Uh, yeah, sure. Of course.” He sat down on the bed next to you. “How are you feeling?” 

You simply shook your head. “I don’t even know, Sam,” you replied honestly, a tremor in your voice. “I know it wasn’t his fault. I know that. Honestly, I’m not sure which of us got the worst deal. I can’t imagine how I’d feel if I had...” you tailed off, unable to finish the sentence. “I know he must be feeling so guilty. But when I think about seeing him, seeing his face and hearing his voice...” 

You took a deep breath, trying not to cry again. “When you go, can you tell him I don’t blame him?” 

Sam nodded. “I’ll tell him.” 

In the end, you and Sam ended up starting a conversation about a TV show you’d recently watched, and he even made you laugh a couple of times. For a blissful hour or so, you could almost forget what had happened. Eventually Sam left, returning a few minutes later with a glass of water and a sleeping pill. “I figured sleeping would be hard for you tonight, so I thought this would help.” 

With a grateful smile, you took the tablet. “Thanks, Sam. I think I’m gonna try and get some rest now, if I can. Oh, Sam?” 

Sam paused before he could leave the room. “Yeah?” 

“Make sure you tell Dean... you know.” 

He smiled softly. “I will.” 

It took some time, but eventually you drifted off despite the thoughts whirling in your head. You dreamed about Dean. He was happy, laughing. You were cooking something together. And then he kissed you. 

Your heart soared. You returned the kiss, Dean’s lips soft against yours, one of his hands in your hair. As he deepened the kiss, his grip got tighter, until it began to hurt, and you pulled back a little. “Dean, slow down,” you pleaded suddenly. “Hey. You’re hurting me!” 

In a blink, you were on the floor on your back, and Dean was leaning over you, his eyes jet black. “You wanted this,” he said with a cold grin. “I know you wanted it. You liked it.” 

You kicked and struggled, but your hits seemed to go right through him, and your arms and legs were heavy. “No...” 

“You enjoyed it. And I’m gonna do it again. I’m not cured. I’m just biding my time, waiting until you trust me, until I get the perfect opportunity. And then I’m gonna rape you again.” 

You screamed, kicking and thrashing violently, but you were moving far too slow, your limbs weighed down. “No! Stop it! No!” 

Someone shouted your name.

You shot upright, lashing out, shrieking and thrashing. Your fist hit something solid, and then Cas was grabbing your wrist, stopping you from hitting him in the jaw a second time. “Stop! It's me.” 

You froze, breathing hard, your brain slowly registering the fact that you were safe, you had simply been dreaming. “Cas? Oh shit, did I hit you?” 

“You did,” said Cas, letting go of your wrist, “but you didn’t hurt me. No need to apologise.” 

“Well, I’m sorry anyway. I was dreaming. What time is it?” 

“It’s nine in the morning. You were asleep for nearly twelve hours.” 

“Guess that sleeping tablet really knocked me out.” You rubbed your eyes, beginning to calm down a little from your dream, but still on edge. You could still see those black eyes above you, still feel the phantom touch on your skin.

“Sam wanted me to ask you if you want breakfast yet. He said he’d make you some.” 

You still didn’t particularly feel like eating, but finally you nodded, deciding you ought to at least try. “Yeah, ok. Can you tell him to wait twenty minutes or so? I wanna have a shower first.” 

Cas nodded, but didn't leave immediately. He looked like he wanted to say something. "Did you, uh... did you want something?" you asked.

Cas looked a little awkward, but then, he generally did. “I, uh... I just wanted you to know that you can talk to me, or to Sam, whenever you need. We’re here for you.” 

Averting your gaze, you simply nodded. Fighting the urge to break down again, you waited until Cas had left the room before you got up, heading for the bathroom across the hall. 

You simply hadn’t had the energy to face a shower last night, but now you were dying to wash away the memories of yesterday. You scrubbed your skin almost raw, as though it would wash away Dean’s- the demon’s- touch from your body. Memories flashed through your mind, each one making you flinch. The malicious grin on Dean’s face as he took pleasure in your suffering, his hands running over your bare skin, your own scream as he’d dislocated your shoulder. 

Fighting back tears, you turned off the shower. 

Ten minutes later you padded barefoot into the kitchen, wrapped in your soft comfy bath robe, arms wrapped around yourself. The soft fabric against your skin was comforting. Sam offered you a smile from where he stood over the frying pan. “Hey. Breakfast is almost done.” 

You sat at the table, accepting a plate of pancakes from Sam, and forced yourself to eat. You managed about half before you finally admitted defeat, your stomach still queasy, and pushed the plate away. 

At that moment, Dean stepped into the room, and you froze. So did he. 

“Oh, hey,” he said, after a long moment, trying way too hard to sound casual. “Didn’t know you were in here.” 

You could feel your heart racing, your muscles tense, and it felt like your stomach was trying to crawl up your throat. You didn’t know what to say. 

Dean looked down at the floor. “Are you, uh... you feeling ok? Cas fix you up?” 

You nodded slowly. You wanted to speak, to tell Dean it was ok, that you forgave him, that you didn’t blame him, but it felt like your lungs were shrinking, your throat tight. It was hard to breathe, and your vision was blurring with tears. You stared at the table, clenching a hand into a fist, your nails digging into your palm. 

“I can, uh... I can come back later.” Dean left the room, his footsteps fading as he hurried back down the hall. 

Sam’s voice called your name. It was distant, far away. The walls were closing in on you, your breathing coming in short gasps. You were starting to feel light headed, unable to get enough oxygen into your lungs. Sam grabbed your shoulder, and you cried out. 

“Woah, hey... it's ok, just breathe...” 

You swayed dizzily, almost falling off your chair, and Sam grabbed you. “Ok, come on, we’re gonna sit on the floor before you fall. Come on.” He eased you to your feet, guiding you to sit on the floor with your back against the nearest wall; you had to lean on him heavily to stay upright, your legs unable to hold your weight. Once you were sat down, Sam took your hands. “Breathe. Look at me. Just breathe.” 

Squeezing Sam’s hands tight, you fought to draw in air. “Can’t breathe...” 

“Yes you can. Deep breaths.” You shook your head frantically. “Hey, just trust me. Take a deep breath, just one, ok?” 

You hauled in a breath, letting it out in a rush. “Good. Again.” Sam’s voice was calm and soothing, his touch grounding. Slowly, gradually, you began to recover your breath, calming your racing heart. 

“You ok?” Sam asked when your breathing finally slowed. 

You shook your head. “I saw him, and I just... I couldn’t...” 

“Hey, it’s ok.” 

“It’s not ok!” you snapped, your tears spilling free. “It wasn’t his fault, I know it wasn’t! But I saw him, and I was scared, and I was angry, too, angry that he did this to me... and I know that’s not fair. It’s not fair, it’s not...” 

Sam squeezed your hands gently. “Look, your brain is gonna be all sorts of messed up right now. I can’t imagine how you feel. I’d say it’s probably normal to be scared, and confused, and even angry.” 

You wiped at your eyes furiously. “I want to see him.” 

Sam’s eyes widened, surprised. “Now? Really?” 

You nodded firmly. “I need to get past this, Sam. I’ve gotta push through it, it’s the only way. I can’t just sneak around the bunker forever, panicking every time I see him.” 

“Don’t you think you should take a few days to...” 

“Sam,” you interrupted, silencing him. “I can’t. I can’t bear this. The longer I wait, the worse it’ll be. Please.” 

With a heavy sigh, Sam stood up, holding out a hand to you and pulling you to your feet. “You want me to stay with you?” 

“Yes please,” you whispered, taking Sam’s hand without thinking. He gave you a soft, reassuring smile before leading you out of the kitchen, following the route Dean had taken down the hall. As you neared Sam’s room where Dean was staying, you heard something smash, like the sound of glass shattering, and you flinched, fresh panic flaring in your chest. 

“It’s ok,” Sam soothed. “Wait there, ok? I’ll go check on him.” He left you alone in the corridor, hurrying ahead to his bedroom. 

You waited, trembling, listening. You could hear a raised voice, too muffled from here to hear what was being said; Dean’s voice. Summoning up every scrap of courage you possessed, you began making your way further down the corridor. 

“Why would she want to see me?” you heard Dean snap as you got closer. “She should stay far away from me. In fact I should leave, I shouldn’t be here!” 

“She doesn’t blame you, Dean.” That was Sam’s voice. Soft and steady. “And she doesn’t need you deciding what’s best for her.” 

Taking a deep, steadying breath, you opened the door. 

Sam and Dean both turned to look at you. Dean said your name. The sound of his voice made you flinch, just slightly. “Listen, you don’t have to say anything...” 

“I do,” you cut in, your voice shaking. “I need to. It wasn’t your fault.” 

“But I...” 

“Let me finish,” you interrupted, a fresh tear spilling down your face. “You weren’t in control, I know you weren’t. But it’s made me so confused. I’m upset, and angry, but it’s not at you, it’s at that version of you. I’m angry about what he did, and I’m angry that it’s affected me like this. I want to get past it, but I... I don’t know how.” 

Finally, you looked over at Dean. It took a lot of effort. 

He, too, was struggling to look in your direction. He ran a hand over his face, and the only way you could describe his expression was... heartbroken. He looked heartbroken. Devastated. At last, he returned your gaze. 

“I am so, so sorry.” You weren’t sure you’d ever seen him cry before, but his eyes were shining with tears. “I couldn’t stop it. And I... that version of me, he... _I_ enjoyed it. I wanted to do it. It wasn’t me, but it was still a part of me. It was like there was this anger inside me, this hatred, this need to see someone in pain. But it’s gone now, and now I just feel sick all the time. I can’t get it out of my head.” He took a staggered breath. “Maybe it wasn’t my fault. The mark made me do it. But it was still me, a twisted part of me, and I am so sorry. If you need me to leave, I will. Or if you want to leave, that’s fine. You don’t ever have to see me again.” 

You shook your head. “I don’t want you to leave,” you whispered. “I want to get past this. Like I said, I just... don’t know how.” 

Dean shrugged. “Maybe we can figure it out.” 

You bit your lip. “Maybe. I want to.” 

Nervously, you padded closer; Dean stayed where he was, waiting. Slowly making your way towards him, you stopped in front of him, shaking. “I don’t want to be scared of you,” you whispered. 

Slowly, Dean opened his arms out to you. “You don’t have to.” You weren’t sure if he was referring to the hug, or you being scared of him. Perhaps both. 

Stepping in close, you threw your arms around him. Dean returned the hug, not holding you too tight, giving you your space. Standing there in his arms, with his familiar scent and the feel of his shirt against your cheek and hearing his heart thudding in his chest, reminders that he was human now- the human you loved- you broke down. 

“Shh,” Dean whispered soothingly, rubbing a hand up and down your back. “It’s ok. I’m never gonna hurt you again. I’m sorry, sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” You sobbed against his chest, part of your brain screaming at you to back away, to pull free of his grip, but a bigger part of you simply didn’t want to lose him. You still loved him, and you desperately wanted to push through this and come out the other side. If you could manage that, it would be worth it. 

Eventually, you pulled back. “Did you mean what you said about me?” you asked tentatively. “When you said you liked me? Or was that just demon you messing with me?” 

“It was true,” Dean admitted, looking away. “I mean, I know that’s not gonna happen. Us, I mean. But yeah, it was true.” 

“I wouldn’t say nothing’s ever gonna happen,” you put in. “I mean, I don’t know. I guess it would probably take a long time. But I like you too, Dean, and I know that normal you would never do something like that. I guess my mind just needs some time to heal.” 

Dean nodded, taking a step back again. “Take all the time you need. No pressure.” 

You offered him a weak smile. “Thank you. Just don’t blame yourself too much, ok?” 

He laughed quietly. “Yeah, I can’t see that happening. But I’ll try. For you.” 

“That’s all I can ask. I’m gonna go take some more time to myself, if that’s ok. But it’s good to have you back, Dean.” You kissed your fingertips, then reached out to touch them against the back of his hand before you turned away, heading back to the privacy of your room. As you made your way back down the corridor, you couldn’t help the tiniest smile. 

Maybe you were strong enough to get past this.


End file.
